


New Soul, Strange World

by hollycomb



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Ableist Language, Age Regression/De-Aging, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Medical Trauma, Needles, Phobias, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 14:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10113212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollycomb/pseuds/hollycomb
Summary: Ren senses Hux in extreme distress and rushes to his aid, thereby discovering that Hux has a phobia of basic medical procedures due to childhood trauma. Ren deals with it, reluctantly but in a way that would make his mother proud (which he resents).





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [this prompt](http://kyluxhardkinks.tumblr.com/post/157414673318/ill-submit-here-because-its-kind-of-a-niche) over at kyluxhardkinks. Thank you to the prompter for the inspiration! 
> 
>  
> 
> **

Hux’s distress hits Ren like a lightning bolt. It’s so sharp and sudden, from clear across the ship, that Ren is certain he’ll burst onto the scene of an assassination attempt when he gets there. 

He runs as fast as he can and uses the Force to blast every barrier aside, whether it’s a durasteel door or a pair of stormtroopers on patrol. He would normally never show Hux such a bald-faced display of concern, but the massive waves of Hux’s panic communicate without a doubt that this is a matter of life or death, and that if Ren doesn’t use the full extent of his abilities to get to Hux as soon as possible, he’ll be too late to save him. 

Ren’s fear-blind race through the ship leads him to medbay. He has his lightsaber drawn but not ignited, and as he begins to process the scene before him he fails to locate an enemy he might strike down. 

Hux is in the corner, seemingly unharmed but still radiating silent, extreme panic, his face sheet white and his palms pressed to the durasteel wall. He’s wide-eyed but doesn’t seem to be looking at anything, his throat working around panicked swallows and his thighs twitching as he seems to try to push himself wholly into the walls behind him. The collar of his uniform tunic is unbuttoned. 

“What’s going on?” Ren asks, addressing the medical staff. Only two are present: the ship’s senior-most physician and a droid holding a tray with vaccination stims. 

“Sir,” the doctor says uncertainly, her increasing unease pushing its way into Ren’s consciousness as she begins to wonder why Kylo Ren is here and what he might do next. “It’s good you’ve come, ah-- Your co-commander is in significant distress.” 

“I can see that. Why.”

“I’m not entirely certain, sir. General Hux requires vaccinations before joining the delegation to Monk-7. This is the first time I’ve treated him, or-- Attempted to treat him. He’s used his command override to cancel all the appointments that were auto-scheduled for him, for all the years I’ve served on this ship. Forgive me for speculating--” She glances at Hux, who is still staring into space and trying to back himself through the walls. “I suspect a severe phobia. He seemed-- Off, as soon as he showed up here, and his composure deteriorated rapidly when my droid entered with the vaccination equipment.” 

“Hux,” Ren snaps, humiliated by the thought of how he bolted here, fearing Hux’s imminent death. Hux ought to be experiencing profound humiliation, too, but from Ren’s read of him with the Force he seems to be unable to form any coherent thought beyond _help_ and _they’ll hurt me, they’ll hurt me, they want to hurt me_.

Ren has seen Hux under pressure before, and he’s sensed Hux’s fear of pain, of death. Even when it was profound, under the surface, it was nothing like this. 

“He’s been unresponsive to my attempts to calm him,” the doctor says, stepping closer to Ren. She’s a small woman with graying hair, and Ren realizes with a stab of his own irrational panic that her demeanor reminds him of his mother. 

“Get over here,” Ren says to Hux, disliking the way his heart rate spikes at the unbidden thought of Leia. “We’re going. You’re not well.” 

Hux blinks rapidly and seems to focus on Ren at last. His eyes change, thawing from frozen terror as his thought process shifts from a sense of trapped, defensive agony to a direct blast of unspoken appeals to Ren: _help me, help me, please help me_.

“Perhaps a gentler tone?” the doctor suggests, daring to infuse this with a hint of criticism. Ren looms into her personal space and she wilts, backing away. 

He turns back to Hux and realizes she’s right. Hux is having some kind of full-on episode, his mind like a pile of bricks that tumbled apart when someone launched a cannonball at the sturdy wall they once composed. Ren has sensed something like this on Hux before, but it was far milder and the circumstances then were much more appropriate for a minor breakdown, at least in terms of privacy. Hux can’t be seen like this by anyone but the doctor. 

“Leave us,” Ren says to the doctor. “And take that droid with you.” 

“Yes, sir,” she says, mostly masking her displeasure. She beckons for the droid and it follows her out of the room, taking the vaccination stims with it. 

When she’s gone, Ren removes his helmet. Hux’s shoulders immediately relax, though the rest of him is still pressed to the wall. Ren hears Hux expel a shaky breath as he moves closer. 

“What happened?” Ren asks, keeping his voice low, if not soft, as Hux searches his eyes. 

“Please,” Hux says. His voice is cracked, tiny. “Ren. Help, help me--” 

“You’re not in any danger. You had some kind of irrational panic episode. You’re fine.” 

Hux shakes his head and pinches his eyes shut. He’s trembling all over, scratching at the walls behind him with his short nails. A more thorough read of his condition reveals that he’s on the verge of pissing himself with fear, terrified about what would happen if he does. 

He’s afraid of the stims, afraid of the droid who brought them, afraid of the doctor, the examining table, and afraid of being _punished_ for all of this. 

It’s as if he’s transformed into a child. Like the last time Ren witnessed a strange shift in the workings of Hux’s mind, only much more intense. 

“I’m going to take you away from here,” Ren says, not yet resorting to the use of mind manipulation. Hux is resistant to it, typically hard to get even a casual read on, and Ren is afraid he’ll sever the small threads of trust that have knotted them together over the past year if he makes Hux leave this place against his will. “All right?” Ren says, holding Hux’s gaze. “Do you want to leave? With me?”

“Yes, yes, please--” 

“Let’s go, then.” 

Ren finds Hux’s greatcoat tossed on the exam table and grabs it as they go, Hux moving uncertainly at his side. Draping the coat over Hux’s shoulders seems to help, and though Ren can sense his continuing distress all the way back to his room, Hux manages to hold it together, only looking more pale than usual and walking with discomfort because of his need to piss. 

“Go to the fresher,” Ren says when they’re shut inside Hux’s room together. Hux is still staring into space and barely managing to think straight, still projecting fear and a quivering but powerful energy that asks for Ren’s help. Ren points toward the refresher when Hux looks to him with apparent confusion. “Don’t you need to pee?” Ren prompts, feeling idiotic. He takes his helmet off again. 

“Yes,” Hux says. “Can-- Can I?” 

“Can you what?” 

“Use the, the--” 

His voice trails off and his gaze drops to the floor, chin shaking. Ashamed of himself. Ren rolls his eyes and points again. He should be enjoying this, as ammunition to hold over Hux’s head at a later time, but it’s fucking creepy.

“Do it,” Ren says. “When you’re done, I’ll have something for you. It will make you feel better, go on.” 

Hux nods and stumbles in his steps, hurrying into the refresher. He doesn’t bother to shut the door behind him, which has never happened before, even when he was at his most sex-drunk or half-asleep. Ren turns his back on the situation and goes the cabinet in Hux’s main room where he keeps his tea-making things. Ren has made much fun of Hux for his prissy tea set and habit of needing a particular blend of herbs laced with sedatives to get anything resembling real sleep, but now he’s grateful. He has no idea where else to start with bringing Hux back to himself. 

The tea is still brewing in Hux’s little kitchenette when Hux emerges from the refresher, holding his greatcoat as if he doesn’t know what to do with it. He’s at least zipped himself back up after emptying his bladder, and his energy has calmed now that he’s not in physical pain. Ren takes the coat from him and points to the bed. 

“Sit there,” he says. “Take your boots and your belt off. Your tunic, too. The thing I’m making for you is almost ready.” 

“I-- yes,” Hux says, still speaking in a shaken, hushed voice that Ren doesn’t recognize. “Ren, um. Thank you.” 

Ren swallows a disbelieving grunt. This is the first time Hux has ever thanked him for anything. Ren is pretty sure he’s never even heard Hux say ‘um’ before.

When the tea is ready, Ren pours it into a cup for Hux, feeling idiotic just for handling Hux’s delicate tea paraphenalia. He’s not sure why he’s doing any of this, except that he has an inkling that he’s indirectly responsible for Hux’s current condition. 

As far as Ren knows, which is considerably far thanks to the Force, Hux never exhibited spells of childlike dependency before Ren made the mistake of spending the night in Hux’s bed and rolling over to hold him when he heard Hux grinding his teeth with startling intensity. Hux had gone rigid as soon as he woke enough to understand that Ren’s arms were wrapped around him. Ren interpreted this as rejection, but when he tried to move away Hux clung with such shameless need that Ren figured he had to be mostly asleep. In the morning Hux was strange and quiet, indifferent to the alarm that usually snaps him easily out of bed and unwilling to tolerate any distance between Ren and himself, lingering so close that their shoulders touched while they dressed. By the time Hux’s on-duty hours began he was back to normal and said nothing of this phenomenon, as if he hadn’t noticed it. Ren has cuddled him in bed a few other times, as an experiment, and Hux hasn’t slipped quite so far into whatever this is in response, but he has seemed to revel in the feeling to an absurd, dazed degree. Every time.

Nobody ever held Hux before Ren. A scan of Hux’s mind when he was in this vulnerable state revealed that Hux had gone thirty years without physical affection of any kind beyond sex, usually selecting rough partners even for that, and that he didn’t have much of a childhood at all. Ren is rarely soft with Hux, as they began their affair because Ren is the kind of rough partner Hux seeks out, but when he is Hux seems to descend into this previously untapped place where his delight at being handled with care has been hiding. His reaction to the sensation is a combination of freezing up in confusion and clinging in desperation to keep Ren close.

It’s not good, and that this hazy regression can also be brought on by phobia-induced terror means this condition is far more dangerous than Ren assumed. Hux needs treatment, or he might have this kind of meltdown in the heat of battle, when the Order needs him. 

“Here’s your tea,” Ren says, the back of his neck getting hot when he hears how stupid he sounds, like a nanny droid. Hux is seated on the bed, dressed down to his undershirt, pants and socks as instructed. His hands shake when he reaches for the teacup and saucer, and he peers up at Ren with nervous hesitation as he holds them. “Want me to sit with you?” Ren asks, suppressing a groan. 

Ren doesn’t have the time or the patience for this, but Hux clearly needs him-- needs somebody. He’s nodding, begging with his eyes. 

Ren sighs and takes off his robe, then his belt. He looks up at Hux while he’s working on his boots. Hux takes a hurried sip from the teacup, staring at Ren from over its rim. 

“You want to tell me what happened?” Ren asks as he settles onto the bed beside Hux. The shift of the mattress causes Hux to tumble against his side, and he scoots closer when Ren tucks an arm around him. They don’t normally do anything like this unless it’s just after some unusually intense sex or during a night of dreams so bad that Ren needs something warm to hold onto in the dark. 

“I--” Hux’s voice is a little better now, but still small and uncertain. 

“You can finish your tea if you don’t want to tell me just yet,” Ren says, and he realizes that part of the reason he’s so perturbed by this scenario is now _he’s_ the one reminding himself of his mother, talking like this. Firm but gentle, startled but trying to project an air of authority. 

“Thank you,” Hux says again, and he drinks from his teacup. The color is beginning to return to his cheeks. He leans his weight against Ren’s chest and folds his knees over Ren’s thigh. Ren rubs his thumb over Hux’s bare forearm. His skin is so soft; it still shocks Ren a little at times.

“You’re all right,” Ren mutters, without really meaning to.

Hux shivers and presses into him, his eyes fluttering shut. He smells like aftershave and tea. Soft. 

“I’m sorry,” Hux says. He clears his throat and finishes his tea, seems to be coming back to himself. “They just-- There was a droid. With needles.” 

Now he sounds like he’s regressing again, his voice trembling over the word ‘needle.’

“Stims,” Ren corrects. 

Hux winces. His hands start shaking so hard that Ren rescues the teacup and saucer before he can chip them. As soon as Hux’s hands are free he grabs for Ren’s tunic, clinging to Ren while he shifts with a grunt and puts the cup and saucer onto the table by the bed. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Hux says, burying his face against Ren’s throat as soon as he turns back to tug Hux against him, almost into his lap. “I’m sorry, forgive me, I can’t--” 

“You’re afraid of the stims,” Ren reasons, rubbing his hand across Hux’s back when the sound of that word makes him shudder. “That’s-- Interesting. Surprising.” Ren has seen Hux stare down all manner of things without showing a flicker of fear: the heat of battle, the thousands who look to him for inspiration during his speeches, Supreme Leader’s blistering chastisement, Ren himself. 

“I’m sorry,” Hux says, whispering now. Even during his previous periods of weirdness, he’s never held onto Ren so tightly before. Ren responds by tightening his own grip, shifting Hux onto him more completely. “It’s-- I know I’m not supposed to be afraid. I know, I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing,” Ren says, unnerved by this repetition of yet another word he never thought he’d hear from Hux. He smoothes Hux’s hair down, and continues doing it when Hux relaxes into the feeling. “I’m not mad at you,” Ren says, frowning when he hears himself sounding like his mother again.

“Ren,” Hux says in a whisper. 

“Hmm?”

Hux shakes his head. It wasn’t an entreaty, just a bare expression of gratitude. 

“Should I put on the holo projector?” Ren asks. “To take your mind off your, uh. Ordeal?”

Hux doesn’t answer, breathing in reedy little huffs against Ren’s throat. He sits back just slightly and peeks up into Ren’s face in a way that makes Ren wonder what Hux looked like as a boy. Pale, certainly, and thin, probably already stony-faced with fake confidence at five years old. Ren was similar, but his stoniness was cut through with sunbeams of warmth, light that he couldn’t help but let in. Hux had no such illumination as a boy or afterward. 

“What would we watch?” Hux asks, his grip on Ren’s tunic tightening. 

“Anything you want.” Something bland, Ren would think, like a nature program about herbivores. 

“You pick,” Hux says, leaning in to rub his face against Ren’s neck again. “I don’t care.” 

Ren turns on Hux’s holo projector system, which is unsurprisingly tuned to the ship’s official station, the usual propaganda rolling along as ‘entertainment’ for the troops. Hux’s set has access to all other broadcasts in range, and since they’re close to a heavily populated outpost, there’s quite a lot to choose from. Ren is glad that Hux keeps his face hidden while he flicks through the channels. Some of the images that flash by are potentially disturbing, like a holodrama set in a hospital. 

“Shit, look at that,” Ren says when he pauses at a familiar, half-remembered cartoon program. “I used to watch this as a kid.” 

Hux turns his face toward the projector, one eye still closed against Ren’s skin. Ren puts the volume up a little and laughs under his breath at the sight of this show, which feels like something he dreamed up in a different life. But here it is, persisting without him. 

“It’s about a wookiee,” Ren explains, though this is obvious from the action on the screen. “That’s why I thought it was the coolest when I was a kid. I knew a wookiee, a real one.” He clears his throat and reminds himself not to slide down with Hux into this regressive bullshit. “I’ll find something better,” he mutters. 

“No-- Leave it?” Hux says. On the projector screen, the hero, Pawlett, is climbing a vine toward the treehouse where he lives. Ren remembers this one. It’s something about a bird that stole Pawlett’s special necklace. 

“I’m changing it if they break out into song,” Ren says. He hated those parts as a kid. 

Hux just stares at the screen, his cheek resting on Ren’s collarbone now. Little by little, the last of the tension drains from his shoulders. Ren rubs his hand across Hux’s back to help ease it away, transfixed by the images on the screen. They’re so familiar and so alien at the same time, like all his memories of childhood. 

“This program is astoundingly inane,” Hux mutters after a while, and Ren catches himself grinning at the sound of Hux’s normal voice. “This is what they raise children on in the Republic? Figures.”

“Yeah,” Ren says. He turns the volume down so that it’s just a bare whisper of background noise. Hux is clinging to him loosely now, his head lolling on Ren’s chest if he might fall asleep. “Tell me what happened in medbay,” Ren says, no longer willing to turn a blind eye on these episodes. 

Hux flinches and sits up a little. He meets Ren’s eyes then looks away. When Ren strokes his hair, Hux pushes into the touch and sighs. 

“Disgrace,” Hux says. “That’s what happened.” 

“Only the doctor saw. And me. You went there for your vax, right? For the trip to Monk-7?”

“Yes.” Hux fidgets and touches Ren’s neck, the hollow of his throat. “I’m meant to go planetside tomorrow. It would be incredibly irresponsible not to get vaccinated against the creeping fever they have down there. It’s deadly. I can’t go without it, and I can’t stay on the ship. It would be perceived as a grave insult to the local leader, were he to meet with anyone but the ship’s highest ranking officer. It would be akin to declaring war, sending someone else.”

“I know all this,” Ren says. 

“Forgive me, I mistook you for someone who was willing to listen,” Hux says, glowering. 

It’s such a relief to see that expression again that Ren leans forward to kiss Hux on the bridge of his nose. 

Hux looks faintly stunned afterward, his lips parted and his eyes muggy. 

“Go on,” Ren says, squeezing his waist. “You went there for your shot. What happened next.” 

“Next, ah-- I had that attack of-- Of nerves, whatever.” 

“You were acting like a child.” 

“I’m aware of that! It’s because--”

Hux presses his lips together and gives Ren an angry snarl. Ren watches him and waits to hear the rest. He moves his thumb on Hux’s side just slightly, coaxing him. 

“I had a bad experience,” Hux says, mumbling. “With a medic droid. As a child.” 

“One hurt you?” 

Hux tenses. He nods and doesn’t object to Ren’s hand on his cheek, or to the way Ren gathers him closer. 

“I was-- A mess,” Hux says. “The droid that was programmed to give me a vaccination malfunctioned. I was alone with it, and it wouldn’t-- Wouldn’t stop stabbing me with the stim and wouldn’t let me go. It hadn’t registered that the dose was already administered, you see. Stuck on a loop. I was screaming and crying and I had-- Never done anything like that, it wasn’t permitted, but I thought the thing would kill me, it seemed to want to hurt me, it _was_ hurting me. My father heard me and stopped the droid, and when he saw that it was just a series of pricks to my arm that had made me so hysterical he put me in isolation as punishment. Sensory deprivation, you know-- a closet.” 

“How old were you?”

“Four. And it had been a while since I’d been tossed in that closet. I was proud of myself for avoiding it, to the point that I thought it wouldn’t happen anymore, like I had conquered that form of punishment, but suddenly it was all ruined. I don’t remember being released, that’s the funny part. He must have found me sleeping in there and carried me out, or maybe I was so distressed that I just lost a piece of time, but I have no memory of that door opening. Just the memory of going in.” 

Hux sits up, squirming against Ren’s grip like he wants to get free. He grabs for the holo projector’s controller and snaps the wookiee cartoon off. 

“Well, you must have enjoyed that,” Hux says, turning his sour expression on Ren. “Just my luck that you were happening by when I temporarily lost my mind.” 

“You reached out for me through the Force.” 

“For _you_? I doubt it.” 

Ren sniffs and lets go of him. Maybe it’s technically true that Hux wasn’t seeking Ren in particular during his panic. But he was begging for help, and who else was going to hear?

“Wait,” Hux says, tugging at Ren’s tunic when he tries to move away. “Don’t-- Look, don’t mistake my humiliation for ingratitude. I appreciate that you, ah. Got me back here discreetly.” 

“It’s my fault,” Ren says. 

“Your fault? What?”

“This-- Condition you’re having. It started when you were in bed with me.” 

Hux’s eyebrows go up. “I’ve never had a psychotic breakdown in your bed, Ren, don’t flatter yourself.” 

“No-- Not like this. But similar. How you, uh. Hold onto me like that. Like this.” 

Hux’s hand uncurls from Ren’s tunic. He leans back, studying Ren’s face while his own cheeks turn bright red. 

“That’s not--” Hux’s mouth hangs open. He’s stammering, face blazing. Ren shifts uncomfortably and looks down at his hands. 

“I set something off in you,” Ren says. “Gave you access to something you’d denied yourself-- That had been denied to you. It’s made you vulnerable to this kind of regressive behavior. Clearly.” 

Hux moves away from him, drawing both hands through his hair to try and put it back in order. He seems to be preparing to leave, then notices that they’re in his room, not Ren’s. 

“Right,” Hux says. “Well. You’d better put a stop to your corruption of my sanity, then. I suppose I’ve been meaning to ask you to do that for some time now.” 

“We could still--” 

“No, I don’t think so. Too slippery a slope, what with your-- Bed-sharing habits, and my, my-- Apparent weakness for them.” 

Ren snorts. “Bed-sharing habits? It’s called affection.” 

“Is it.” 

Ren grabs for Hux when he tries to move farther away, and he’s not sure what to do with him after pinning him to the bed. Hux’s face is still blazing, but he holds Ren’s gaze, eyebrows pinched and nose wrinkled. 

“What are you doing?” Hux asks. “I agree with your assessment. So move off.” 

“There’s a cure for this,” Ren says, deciding so as he speaks. 

“For what?” Hux squirms in his grip, but it’s not very convincing. He doesn’t want to be released. 

“We could make a memory of you leaving the closet.” 

The color drains from Hux’s face so rapidly that Ren almost blurts an apology. 

“Or not,” he says instead. 

“No, I-- You may be onto something.” 

Hux sits up slowly and glances at his wardrobe. On the left side, where he hangs his greatcoat, there’s a compartment just big enough for a full grown man to squeeze uncomfortably into. 

“I’m just making this up,” Ren confesses, afraid now that his suggestion might make things worse for Hux and whatever he’s going through. 

“Of course you are,” Hux says, still staring at the wardrobe. “But your Force-given intuition isn’t for nothing. I want to try it. I can’t have this thing-- festering in me, and I don’t have faith in any cure that doesn’t involve pain. Not for psychosis, anyway.” 

“That’s--” Ren makes a face at the wardrobe, then at Hux when he turns to him. “I don’t know.” 

“I like it,” Hux says, some kind of lurid mania spooling into his eyes. It makes Ren nervous. “The efficiency of this solution appeals to me.”

“Uh, well, you already sound kind of insane again, so--”

“Shut up, Ren. I’m going into that closet. Ten seconds. That should do it, in this elevated state of-- whatever it is I’m in. Then you open the door, and then, you know. Relief.” 

“Hux, you’re not well. I shouldn’t have--”

“Nonsense, it’s perfect.” 

Hux pushes Ren’s hands away and moves toward the wardrobe. Ren sits watching, feeling strangely helpless. He remembers this sensation from the first time Hux clung to him during the night, too. It was as if Ren suddenly had no power to disconnect from Hux and his suffocating need. Maybe because he didn’t want to. 

“The full ten seconds,” Hux says when he’s standing with one foot in the wardrobe, one on the floor. His cheeks have pinked up again, and his hair is flopping over his forehead. “Nothing less will do. Understand?”

“No,” Ren says.

Hux rolls his eyes and steps into the wardrobe, pulling the door shut behind him. 

Ren stares at the closed wardrobe door. There’s something like a sense of great regret lodged in his chest; he shouldn’t be fucking around with someone who’s as messed up as Hux, or with someone whose job performance has so much bearing on his own success, though he supposes Snoke could replace Hux with a snap of his fingers if Hux became truly compromised by buried trauma that’s been brought to the surface by Ren’s-- What? Kindness? Anyway, Ren doesn’t like the idea of Hux being replaced by some other officer. The new person wouldn’t have Hux’s hair, or his tight, sweet little ass, or his undeniably appealing strangeness, the kind of bizarre outlook on life that has him sitting inside a wardrobe like a punished child at present. Hux’s secret eccentricity compliments Ren’s own, despite manifesting so differently. Thus, they are ideal co-commanders. 

Ren realizes with a jolt that he forgot to count to ten, but it can’t have been more than ten seconds already. 

He leaps off the bed as if the wardrobe is on fire and tears the door open. Possibly he should have approached with more care: Hux looks terrified within, gaping up at Ren, his knees hugged to his chest. 

“You can come out now,” Ren says, surprised when he hears his voice shaking. 

Hux doesn’t move. Fuck.

“Here,” Ren says, reaching down for him. “Let me-- C’mon. Hux, it’s okay. I’m here. You’re leaving the closet, see? All right, step down. There you go.” 

Hux wraps his arms around Ren’s neck. He makes a soft sound under his breath as Ren helps him from the wardrobe and over to the bed. They slump there together and Hux hides himself against Ren’s chest as if he’s seeking another kind of darkness. Ren closes around him and strokes the back of his neck until he stops shivering. 

“Good,” Hux says, his voice muffled against Ren’s shirt. “That was good.”

“Was it?”

“I think so. Yes. That tea you gave me-- it was the sort with the sedative mixed in, wasn’t it?” 

“Uh-huh. Thought you could use it.” 

“Well, Ren, fuck you.” 

Hux is still clinging, lifting his face to rub his cheeks and nose against Ren’s throat. Then he’s asleep with his soft mouth open on Ren’s skin. 

Ren combs his fingers through Hux’s hair, a sense of alarm building within him even as comfort climbs through other compartments. He’s thinking now not of his mother but of his father, of something Han said to him just after a fight with Leia that had caused her to storm out of the house. 

“Hey, some advice,” Han said, probably trying to lighten the mood when Ben stared at him with accusation accompanied by fear. “Never fall in love with a lunatic.” 

Hux makes a snuffling noise in his sleep and Ren thinks, before he can stop himself: so much for that. Another piece of sage Han Solo advice ignored entirely.

 

 

**


End file.
